


Innocent Murderer

by Elle_est_vivant



Category: Hermitcraft, Iskall85 - Fandom, Stressmonster101 - Fandom
Genre: Arena fights, Brave New World inspired, F/M, Je suis une baguette, Minecraft Detective Games settings, artificial intelligence and mind reading, hunger games ish settings, iskall simps, murder Will Happen, postmodern
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25947298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_est_vivant/pseuds/Elle_est_vivant
Summary: Iskall, 21, a mass-produced human, combatant, murderer.Stress, 19, a mass-produced human, combatant, innocent.Nothing special about them, except for the fact that they somehow possess a higher emotion, not just intrinsic fear and will, than all other mass-produced humans.Love.But love isn't a weapon, eh? Love doesn't stop the dagger that's coming for your back.
Relationships: Viktor | Iskall85/Stressmonster101
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

'Iskall?' Stress whispered into the communicator, trembling, hidden in the corner of a room.

'Stay upstairs, yeah, where you are right now, I think the murderer is downstairs.' Iskall's voice came through, calm as if everything is under control, effectively soothing Stress, but the tense atmosphere was way stronger.

After all it's life and death.

'Okay... Iskall I'm still scared.'

'You'll be alright, it's okay, I'll protect you.'

'Should I go find you?'

'No. Stay there. I know the murderer is downstairs.' Iskall looked up to that barely visible figure in a bright pink shirt from the atrium, the virtual chip implanted in him projecting his own identity in his vision, mechanic font in red.

'Murderer.'

It's a fight for a chance to live. The murderer eliminate people, people search for weapons to defend themselves, after the murderer die a new one is randomly chosen by the artificial intelligence behind all these, not only that, to keep this horrid game more entertaining and to make the people try harder, if the murderer doesn't kill anyone for thirty minutes, he dies, the chip would inject neurotoxin right into his central nerve. So would an innocent when they kill another innocent or when they know the murderer's identity for longer than two hours.

In one word, no matter what, only one can survive.

In this world people are nothing but toys. They are mass produced, in glass jars, in large incubation chambers, perfect temperature, perfect nutrition, perfect oxygen concentration. They grow up, knowing no knowledge other than basic language skills coded in their genes, then they become adults, a few from the two sexes would be taken as the source of the offspring, become biological machines for gametes, have thousands of children yet know none.

The rest are what's known as combatants. They would be thrown into a game, the game of death, and after the game is done, the one left would be 'discarded'. Sounds pathetic, but really the best ending a person could ask for, left alone by the AI, by the higher intelligences that love to watch people suffer, with other survivors, in a world where living essentials are not a concern.

And now, Iskall, having only lived for twenty one years, decided to give up his chance. He might be the strongest, the fittest, the smartest, but that doesn't affect the one thing he could never accomplish, that is, sending the sword through the girl's heart, the girl who had been his best friend for years, the girl who is so innocent and sweet, the girl, when she smiles, it's as if the world is not horrible anymore.

The girl he loved for the entirety of his life.


	2. Promise

Sixteen people are now scattered randomly in the arena, a five floor tall mall-like edifice with complicated structure, corridors and elevator wells, rooms, stalls, an atrium with a tree going all the way up to the ceiling. They're given communicators, a chance for them to communicate with any one of their decision.

Everyone has a chip in the back of their neck projecting the current status of the entire game to them, the number of people left, their own identity, their own ammo stock, everything they need to know.

Only the murderer starts with a weapon, a silver dagger, any player upon contact of it-even just the tiniest cut, as long as blood is present-neurotoxin is released and the player drops dead. Everyone else searches for their own weapons in the arena, hidden, some in plain sight and can be simply taken, some require a complicated logical lock to be broken, some require sacrifice.

All the rules above, along with the personal information, are being projected into the combatants's fields of vision, everyone's being identical at the beginning.

_Ammo: 0_

_Time left until automatic neurotoxin release: N/A_

_Number of people left: 16_

_Identity: Innocent_

Iskall searches for Stress anxiously in the few valuable minutes before the official start, if he couldn't find her, he couldn't tune their communicators. But more importantly, he knew she couldn't go through this alone. She was never meant for this, how could she be, he remembers her refusing to eat a chicken stew because she thought it was made from living things when she was three, and only agreed to eat it after Iskall explained how it's common sense that chickens are manufactured like cups are - you see, even five years old Iskall knows, it must be common sense.

It's like she isn't made for this world. It's like she is an angel who hasn't seen evil all her life but suddenly banished to this brutal land. Stress.

He searched all the floors with the idea of his girl in mind, calling out her name, hoping that she responds.

'Stress? Answer me if you could hear me- Stress?'

'...Iskall?' A voice came from the corridor branch he just ran past, and he halted abruptly, then sprinted towards the source of the sound.

'Yes it's me. Stress? You there?'

'Yeah... I'm scared.' Stress curled up on the floor against a wall, hugging her knees, terror in her large watery eyes, quite out of place.

She really do look like she's out of this world, fear and despair are simply emotions that shouldn't even be able to touch her. Iskall secretly sighed to himself.

'It's okay, we'll get through this, trust me, I'll make sure you survive to the last.' He kneeled down, making himself eye-level with her, trying to look reassuring while his own worry and fear try to take over him. It's his first time in the arena too, he had no experience about any of these too, not as if he doesn't fear death...

'Okay.' Stress looked at him, still scared, but better. 'Should we tune our communicator? I mean, is there another person here that you need to...'

'No. Just you.' Iskall cut her questioning words off, not noticing the little blush that creeped onto her face as he spoke, 'you're the only one.'

He stood up, offering Stress a hand. Stress pressed one of the buttons on his communicator labeled 'tune' as he did the same thing, then the communicators beeped in unison, signaling success.

'We did it!' Some excitement made it into Stress, but it soon fades, as the atmosphere of the unknown takes over. 'Now what...?'

'Now we wait.' Iskall couldn't even finish his short sentense before the virtual projection in his head flashed violently, cutting him off as a mechanic voice resonates in his head.

'Thirty seconds until start.'

Iskall's brain literally paused for a second because of the blinding flashing holograph. He shook his head, shaking it off, and found Stress's expression similar to his own, but more scared, frozen in place.

'Stress...'

'Iskall I can't...' Terror seeped out of Stress's facial expression, finally taking over with the announcement as a trigger, as she helplessly looked at Iskall, trying to find a saviour within all these cruelness.

'You can. Trust me, you can. You're strong. You're stronger than you know.' Although he says so, he still pulled her into an embrace, shielding her from the ominous atmosphere, protecting her from this senseless world for as long as possible. She was still trembling, but getting better, as she silently hugged him back, her arms wrapped tight around him.

'Stress, I swear, no matter what happens, I will protect you. I will risk anything to do so. Anything.'

When he said those words, he meant it. He is ready to fight anyone that comes for Stress, the murderer with his toxic dagger or other ignorant innocents with their weapons pointed towards him, he is ready to make any sacrifice to help her, he is ready to stand as opposition to the entire world just for her. Nothing could possibly hurt more than losing her, he thought. Nothing could possibly be more agonising than have the love of his life taken away from the living world.

He is ready to battle.

'Ten seconds.' The mechanical audio projection.

He tightened the embrace too, as if it would help with their survival.

'Eight.'

Or he just didn't want to release.

'Five.'

But he had to.

'Three.'

He released her, but still holding her hands, proving to her how he would always be there.

'Two.'

She looked at him, still holding back tears of fear, but squeezing out a tiny smile, trying to reassure him that she's alright.

'One.'

He suddenly had the impulsion to kiss her, but he held back just in time, as the holograph in their mind flashes again, synced with all other combatants's.

'Good luck.'

Everything in his vision flashes, some codes flashed then disappeared, the info changed, the glowing light blue font still there, but a single word glowing red, out of place, like a needle stabbing his eyeballs.

_Ammo: dagger (--:--)_

_Time left until automatic neurotoxin release: 29:59_

_Number of people left: 16_

_Identity: Murderer_

Murderer. This new, randomly assigned identity. Iskall felt his vision black out for a second, then Stress's voice pulled him back to reality.

'You're also innocent, right?' Stress glanced at him nervously, having read her own identity off of her chip's projection.

'...Yes I am.' He swallowed, but not avoiding the eye contact.

The first lie in his entire life. Won't be the last.


	3. First Steps

'Come on, we have to search for weapons.' Iskall led Stress out of the corridor they were in, and walked towards an office cubicle like area with a suspiciously large amount of cabinets and drawers and such. He tried to not look at her as much as possible, concealing everything in his mind.

He's the murderer. He needs to kill people to keep himself alive, the thirty-minute timer is literally counting his life away and there's no other way to renew it. Stress can't know, or she'll automatically die... What kind of cruel beings could come up with a set of rules like this...

And that's only all the minor rules. He didn't even dare to think about what would happen in the very end. Only one makes it out, Stress has to kill him in order for her to survive. 

Meanwhile he held onto Stress's hand, browsing through the rows of desks and cabinets, restraining himself from his curiosity of touching the silver dagger that appeared out of nowhere into his khaki pocket, hidden perfectly. 

'Iskall I think I found one!' Stress pulled on his sleeves excitedly, holding up a slim long metal box with a combination lock of six digits, the number scroller made of glass, glowing a dim blue light.

'Great. Now... ummm. Combination. We need to find that.' Iskall took the box from Stress, examining it. The box is sealed perfectly, the opening rim almost invisible, there is no other way they could get the content out. Stress searched the rest of the desk, although no one had ever or would ever work there, the desk was piled up with paper, random documents, some geometric sculptures. Nothing seemingly important.

'We don't have to go through all those documents right......?' Stress looked at Iskall, the panic suddenly taking over her again. 'What if the murderer comes up now and kills us... we don't even have weapons...'

'I don't think so, but umm, just go through them while I...... never mind found it.' Iskall stared at a row of weird combinations carved into the metal box, so small and right at the edge, it was almost unnoticeable.

Lying to Stress, no, not even lying, hiding anything away from her is so incredibly hard. Iskall forced himself to not think about it, and tried to focus all his attention on the current task at hand. Only that could he not feel like everything is hard to the level of impossibility and be as normal and unsuspicious as possible, at least on the outside.

'301 x (10^3) + (1!).' He ran his fingers across the engraved writings, mumbling the content of the text. 'Stress you wanna give a shot at maths...?'

'...sure. For survival, not for maths.' Stress unwillingly peeked at the writings from beside him, trying to analyse the expression.

'So, okay, ummm, BODMAS, brackets first, what is ten to the power of...' she closed her eyes, thinking hard, not seeing Iskall's brow furrow, concerned about more than maths.

'...and that plus one is three zero one zero zero one.' Stress looked up after a short while, a small grin of achievement on her face, only to be met with Iskall with the box already open and a sword in his hands.

'Great you solved it!' Iskall raised one eyebrow, smirking, but still handed her the sword. 'I knew you could do it.'

'Iskall...' Stress felt her cheeks heat up, probably from the mockery of Iskall solving it ten times faster than her, 'come on you could've spared me from the maths instead of letting me go through this...'

'No I was reading your mind and tried the combination as soon as you knew the answer. So yeah, you deserve this one.' He smiled and ruffled her hair, the few tens of seconds of Stress being occupied by maths didn't give him too much time to think, but he sorted one thing straight. 

He is the strongest and weakest. Only he can kill others, and only him can be killed by others. As long as he is the only murderer, Stress is safe. So the problem really is to make sure he himself survives and hide the truth from her.

He was also trying to ignore the timer counting down at the edge of his vision. 

Not even twenty minutes left. If he doesn't take action, then this 'not even twenty minutes left' would be the description of his lifespan. He subconsciously looked at Stress again, this time finding her staring back at her, some concern hidden in her brown amber like eyes.

'What about you? You still don't have a weapon.' 

'We'll find another one, don't worry, it'll be fine.' He smiled the most reassuring smile he was able of, and went back to searching for weapons with Stress.

If he wanted to lengthen his lifespan, which he has to to guarantee Stress's safety, he has to kill. Yes. But he can't let Stress see it, or the knowledge will put a death countdown on her.

He sighed quietly, while Stress is picking up her spirits again, blissfully ignorant of what's happening in Iskall's head, paying attention to any suspicious things around them.

Talking about suspicious things, another person they don't know showed up at the corner, a bronze dagger equipped, his eyes fixed on that vulnerable looking girl and the man next to her.

Another thing Stress and Iskall didn't notice is the number of people left count jumped from sixteen to fifteen not half a minute ago.

'Why is the second one so hard to find... It's been, what, almost fifteen minutes, the first one literally took only one minute...' Iskall was distressed, he need to find an excuse to leave Stress and eliminate other combatants, it's flashing down to less than five minutes left, he doesn't know how at all. Meanwhile he pretended it's the weapon he's stressed about, fully aware of the consequences of letting Stress notice anything. 

'Do you want to keep this sword for now?' Stress offered, 'I feel like you having it maximises its effects.'

Iskall was about to answer, when, from behind the corner that they're approaching, the person watching them suddenly appeared in their vision. Stress instinctually stepped back quite a few steps, almost tripping over if not for Iskall's hand, a scream choked in her throat.

The person advanced, gradually closing in on the few meters between them. Iskall noticed Stress trembling violently, but he couldn't risk looking away for even just a split second. He silently held onto her hand tighter, while staring at the stranger, his other hand resting on his waist, inches away from the dagger. The air is cold in the arena edifice, it has always been cold, but it felt freezing at this very moment, seeping into his skin, into his blood, sending chills down his body while he processes a million things in his brain in split seconds.

02:12

This could be his chance at survival. 

'What do you want.' He asked coldly, Stress feeling his body tense up from his stiff grip but wasn't able to do anything, the stranger only laughed in despise.

'Your life?' 

What a nice baritone voice, but not now.

'You know you will die with me.' Iskall tried to stay calm, but inside him inexplicable fear flowed. Does he know that I'm the murderer, he would kill me right now, forcing me to choose death or Stress's life countdown, those thoughts plagued his mind, as his free hand subconsciously slid towards his pocket for the dagger.

'What if I won't?' A little upward curvature crept onto the stranger's lips, confident, as if he knows everything.

'You're the murderer.' It's not even a question, as Iskall gritted in an affirmative factual tone, trying to look credible of his innocent identity.

'I thought I'm supposed to be the one saying that, murderer.' The stranger's tone didn't change much, but it felt like a knife against Iskall's throat. Quite literally. Before he could make an argument, the stranger suddenly took a large step, grabbing his collar, his taller build easily holding Iskall stationary. 

00:36

Then too many things happened at once. Iskall released Stress, the latter still frozen in place, horrified by the sudden turn of events. The stranger's dagger rested against the skin on Iskall's neck, the coldness of the metal almost felt like pain. Iskall tried to look back and yelled at Stress to run away, Stress's nervous reaction finally kicked in as she turned around and sprinted with all her might, only to trip over not ten meters away.

As she stood up from the ground and uncontrollably looked back at where Iskall and the stranger were standing although he told her not to, she saw Iskall standing there, his back facing her, the stranger on the floor.

29:43

Then she saw Iskall kneel down in front of the stranger. As she stumbled her way back, Iskall stood up, the stranger's bronze dagger in hand.

'I think his countdown killed him.' He stood between Stress and the corpse, trying to block the dagger wound on the stranger's abdomen from her vision with his body. 'But hey look now I have a weapon...'

'Iskall are you alright... he didn't hurt you right? Are you okay?' To his surprise, Stress wrapped herself around him, so tight that he almost felt out of breath. His heart skipped a beat, feeling her against it.

This is the first thing in her mind. Is he okay. Not how the stranger would go after her if he is dead and kill her, it's is he okay.

What, why, how could someone create such an angelic being just to put her in this brutal game... Why are people created anyways, how different are they from chickens, now that different after all, just created things, tools, entertainment...

'Yes I am. Don't worry, look, I'm here, I'm alive, everything's okay.' He gently patted her back, trying to comfort her, but that made a very small difference.

'You didn't even have a weapon... Iskall I thought I lost you, I...' She sobbed harder, her shoulders trembling, making him feel that emotion again.

Not anger, not happiness, not wrath, not nervousness, not contentment, not guilt, maybe some sadness, but stronger than all those, above all those, an emotion whose name is not programmed in his genes but it itself is.

In a world where love shouldn't exist, this is bad.

This is terrible.

This is a drawback.

But this is not a thing whose negative consequences they cared about.

This is not a thing whose absence they were aware of.

This is wrong.


End file.
